This is my Story

Copyright Ramen

On July 4th 2002 my parents divorced and my dad blamed me, openly. He has abused me physically my entire life and when they divorced the abuse got worse, black eyes broken fingers, fractured arms, open cuts on my back and legs from his leather belt, things like that. I slowly find myself drowning in my overwhelming feelings and the pain, and after a while I learn that fighting back to him is what caused a lot of the broken and fractured bones, so I learnt that just sitting there and taking it from him is just as painful, if not less painful than it is when I fought him. Well, at around Thanksgiving that year I just caved, I felt like I was dying, and I picked up a knife and just started cutting, as deep as I could, as much as I could. I found myself sitting in a pool of blood trying to figure out what to do. My arm was covered with cuts, stretching from my shoulder to the end of my elbow and started at my wrist and just covered my hand completely, I just got stupid and covered the area that wasn’t already with more cuts and my arm was throbbing. I decided, when it hurts bad enough I’ll stop, I cut my arm raw, I cut out my anger, I cut out my pain, and I couldn’t feel it one bit because I was drowned with emotional pain. I was blinded to physical pain. I wrapped my arm up and put pressure of it, I lied to my mom and told her that my friend’s dog had bitten my arm numerous times and that they took me to the doc and he told me just to keep it wrapped up till it healed. I went around for months with my arm wrapped up and always wearing a hoodie. After about six months I quit keeping my arm wrapped up and I had these huge scars all up and down my arm, well it was around spring so I thought, well everything is fine, and it was, till I had to visit my dad. He saw my arm and started screaming at me, punching me, and shit like that. Well I never quit and I am going to sit here today to say, don’t cut, quit cutting before it becomes really addicting, and just don’t start to begin with.


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